Savages Are Meant To Be Killed, Not Taught
by The Irate Memer
Summary: (A Bulletstorm / Gears of War story.) Aliens are real, and believe it or not they look like humans but smell worse. At least, that's what the Locust think. Who are these two loud humans with their bizarre weapons? Are they here to liberate, or conquer? Kindly Review and Criticize


**This is a Bulletstorm / Gears of War crossover. This takes place after the events of Bulletstorm, and during the events of Gears 3. (Right after Part 2/3 of Act 1.)**

 **Bulletstorm = People Can Fly**

 **Gears of War = MS**

* * *

Man is often faced with the perils of himself once set in an isolated setting. The fears of being sat alone become apparent once you begin to realize the futility of your existence, once your flaws begin to pile up on display. The hardened of minds are only allowed in the great reaching yet congestive environment that is outer-space. Only the ones who are capable of accepting their original sin can traverse the wild and mysterious unknown and have a single hope for survival. Since enlisting in the Confederate Army, Grayson Hunt was the last person who could stand the nauseating silence of space travel. For this reason alone he used as an excuse to stay intoxicated heavily during cargo escorts, tracking missions and even the occasional dog fight in space.

But this time, there wasn't any alcohol for him to nurse on as if he were a frightened baby for this trip.

"MOTHER **FUCKER**." Grayson exclaimed yet again as he sat on the opposite end of the escape pod, face planted against the only window of the vessel. Since he and Trishka Novak managed to succeed in their daring escape from the resort-turned bandit wasteland known as Stygia, the two drifted casually into the depths of space for what looked like an undetermined amount of time. Trishka had explained to the ex-Echo soldier that they weren't going to be stuck for long and that the ship was actually drifting towards a settled planet that was within the Confederate Army's jurisdiction. Of course, Grayson didn't pay much mind to that at all and sat for an entire two days whining and complaining about being 'stuck' in space. To the point where even Trishka was getting annoyed with his bellyaching.

"Two Days. **TWO FUCKING DAYS.** " Gray barked at the woman opposite of him, "TWO FUCKING DAYS AND NOT A SINGLE PLANET TO TAKE US IN." Trishka of course, with the will of a stonewall was more than capable of tolerating the older man's whining. As she quietly cleaned out the funnels of her rifle with a makeshift swab, she looked up to Grayson and retorted, "The radar said that we should be landing on a Confederate colony within the next few hours. So, calm the fuck down you rancid orangutan."

Grayson's lips furrowed into what was a grimace, taking a moment to piece his next words together before continuing.

"/You're/ an orangutan." Ah yes, brilliant retort. Grayson surely had the woman now.

"Did you just...give up on callbacks, Hunt. I mean, I'm not surprised. Your cock of a brain was bound to go flaccid soon enough." Trishka added into the conversation. Ultimately defeated, Gray slammed his head back onto the window to stare out into the vast abyss of space. It was fortunate enough that she was right, and they would soon be landing back to somewhere safe enough to hide away from the Confederate forces. Not that they should have a reason to hide, after all from their knowledge Serrano should've been ground up to collective mush.

But where would the two go from here? They didn't exactly like each other but there's obviously a thin veil of respect for the two, after Trishka found out the truth of the ex-Echo soldier. Trishka was now a bandit whose betrayed her confederacy, and Grayson's bounty wasn't going to get any lower at this point from killing their leader. Was traveling to another trap the best idea? Well, it wasn't like they had much of a choice.

Occasionally, Grayson would see a faint flash of orange that was way, way out into the horizon and with time passing, the duo would slowly travel ever so closer to this flash of light. When not bickering between each other, the two would make eyeball guesses as to see what the light was. Grayson suggested that it must have been some sort of Confederate beacon that would alert the army of incoming bandits. Trishka, however simply believed that it was some sort of communications satellite for commercial uses as the color coding for the Confederate Army had changed since Grayson abandoned it. Still they were only eyeball observations, but sooner or later the truth was going to be revealed to them.

"Are you still looking at that light?" Trishka asked, not out of curiosity but of annoyance.

"It's the only interestin' thing to do on this shitpucker. Not like you're a brimming source of entertainment, kid." Gray murmured. "We're gettin' closer. I think I can see some sort of metal onnit."

That was odd. Was the speed estimate off? Gray shouldn't be even making out a concrete image of the light this far away to destination and god knows the bastard didn't have 20/20 vision, let alone visual augments. With a sigh, Trishka sat aside the rifle next to Gray's and moved aside of the man to look out of the window. From there, Trishka saw that Grayson was indeed correct. The light was attached to something floating.

"No fucking way, we're not even close to UAC." Trishka argued. Grayson snorted and placed his gloved hand against the window. "Well, smart-ass, maybe the ship finally caught wind of your boring ass and decided to kick it into overdrive."

"No. No." Trishka wasn't in the mood for Grayson's fuckery. "You idiot. We've been going at the same set speed for two fucking days now, to conserve fuel. The only way that thing could even be any closer is...is if-." Her train of thought was interrupted once the revelation came to head almost immediately. It wasn't the ship coming towards the anomaly.

It was the _anomaly_ coming towards the ship. It was approaching it at an alarming pace.

"Shit. Shit. Okay, Grayson in the next...ten or so minutes, you're gonna have to hold onto something." She mentioned as she scurried over to the group's supplies. As she paced herself with counting their provisions, ammunitions and weaponry Grayson rose a brow of interest at the girl's sudden desire of preparations.

"Wait. What the fuck's going on. Do you know what that thing is?!" Grayson nearly yelled out but was smart enough to hold his voice in.

"Whatever the fuck that thing is, it's orbiting around the planet...the planet under us! The one not charted or trekked by the Feds." Trishka tried to inform with a bit of urgency. "I have no fucking control over the ship, so it's futile to try and stop it. Worst case scenario, we crash into that thing and we're sent hurling into that planet."

"HOLD THE FUCK UP." Grayson's excitement was beginning to rise. "So you mean to tell me is...that THING could have been built by people who have never heard of Serrano's dick stroking galleon?" Trishka's eyes rolled while she prepared a compact travelling module, stuffing gear into the large open space. "Uhh, the hell if I know. These guys could be savages like in Stygia OR they could be a hyper intelligent civilization that Serrano decided not to fuck with for once. I could go for either one, honestly but right now isn't the time to think for tha-."

"HOLY SHIT. IT'S GLOWING! THIS IS GETTING GOOD."

* * *

The Stranded had no concept of time or progression since the wars began. People were lost. People were going to continue to get lost amidst the neverending wars against the army that betrayed them and the ghouls that go bump in the night. All the stranded had were themselves and whatever shreds of humanity that weren't taken away by the war. Communities were born. People were sheltered, protected. Anyone who was able to fight wouldn't fight for a country, but for their own skin that laid stuck onto their bones. No help from the 'Coalition' or the Gorasni needed.

Enter Hanover; one of the many larger towns in Sera that were abandoned by the Coalition and ravaged by the Locust, only to be forgotten in a worthless husk that it was now. But with the little that they had of their little podunk town, Hanover was slowly-but surely being restored by the community who remained faithful to it. Like any other Stranded colony, there were people who had to keep watch of what exactly was going on. To protect themselves from the COG, the Locust and now the steadily growing Lambent.

The backend watch near the stadium wasn't exactly the best place to be doing patrol duty, but some of the Stranded endured. Some played cards, some played an impromptu game of Thrashball around, and some would even set up bottles to practice their sharpshooting skills. A woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties stood in front of one of the side-armories on guard for any potential thieves or hooligans looking to fool around with the Lancers. Her short, ashen hair stood spiked into the air with only a few strands drooped down over her light brown, slightly damaged right eye and the patch that covered her left. Despite the handicap, she kept a pretty good watch over the munitions mostly because anyone foolish enough to try and steal from her would have to deal with a face full of shrapnel within minutes.

"Hey, Aurelia!" Her name was called from across the catwalk. She looked up to see a young man likely in his teens waving some sort of old weapon in his hand. "Check out what I found!"

Aurelia leaned against the munitions vault, hands raising out of her duster coat to give a wave to the boy with the shaved head. "Back from scavenging, eh Carver?" The tone in her voice was gentle, a contrast from the hardened expressions she usually had.

"I went out to the last place the locust were spotted doing their own little hunting, and aside from a bunch of other stuff they left like half-full ammo boxes they also left THIS little number." As he approached Aurelia, Carver held in his hand some sort of old, dusty Coalition weapon. Aurelia's eye widened as she actually analyzed what she was looking at. Carver, bumbling hands and all managed to find a Hammer of Dawn. The same Hammer of Dawns that managed to wreak havoc on the multiple cities and towns on Sera, like Ephrya. This wasn't good, and this level of COG ordinance could only spell trouble for her.

"Fuck...Carver, you need to trash that thing. Even if it's broken, or not, you NEED to get rid of it. This COG shit will only bring in a lot more trouble from ALL fronts."

"Come on, Aura!" Carver retorted with the nickname he gave the older woman. "It's not everyday you find good shit like this. I mean, sometimes we find a Boomshot or MAYBE even a Scorcher, but a Hammer? No way. We're keeping this! For Hanover!"

While the young man was rambling on about the endless possibilities that the Hammer of Dawn could provide, Aurelia managed to swipe the Hammer of Dawn from Carver. Obviously annoyed at her objections to the weapon, Carver reached over to try and snag it back from the woman.

"NO. We're trashing this thing in the fucking compactor!"

"We have to keep it! What if more stalks come in?!"

"Then we'll handle it the same way like we normally do!" Little did they know, Aurelia had accidentally triggered the hammer while their voices drained out the ominous beeping signal before the large, cataclysmic pillar of power rained down from the sky. directly into the oceanscape. The two stood, dumbstruck that the hammer actually worked.

"Oh...shit."

* * *

"WHAT THE DICK WAS THAT?!" Grayson yelled at the sudden burst of energy colliding onto the escape pod. Warning sirens flaring in the inside, signaling the pod crashing down onto the planet that the satellite was orbiting. Trishka predicted shit like this happening, patting herself on the back mentally that she made the preparations beforehand.

"GRAY, GET YOUR LEASH AND TAKE THIS SHOTGUN. Whatever it is down there, they're obviously hostile." Trishka commented as she braced herself against the side-railings of the escape pods."

"Savages...?!" Grayson took the quad-barreled shotgun that rested on the side-railings. "Uncultured chimps waiting to be liberated by me! This...THIS IS FUCKING EXCITING!"

"I don't think 'uncultured chimps' have fucking satellite lasers laying around for no fucking reason, Gray! NOW SHUT YOUR MOUTH AND HOLD ON TO SOMETHING. WE'RE COLLIDING IN FIVE!" Grayson obviously ignored the woman's rationality, fingers drumming along the barrel of his rifle while Trishka held close to the travel 'ball that compacted into her hands.

Five minutes until collision.

* * *

The Locust were in a position where conquering was not a part of the plan anymore. They were uprooted from the tunnels that protected them and gave the competitive edge during the war with the humans, exposed against the harsh sun and the unforgiving wildlife - not to mention the Lambent threat. Drones and Grenadiers would work together in rebuilding strongholds to bunker down against the Lambent forces while the Coalition were the least of their concerns, seeing how they were exiled to that one base called Anvil Gate and stranded at Sea.

Their queen said the time would be soon where they can finish off that problem. But the Lambent were their priority for now.

The Locusts knew no such thing as a 'break' or 'sleep' during work. All they knew was to work. To serve for their queen. So it was out of the ordinary to see these drones, looking into the sky.

They all looked up into the murky horizon, and in their vision the Spotters saw it first. Something was falling. Something was falling from the sky. It wasn't Gears. It /definitely/ wasn't Lambent.

Unfortunately, the Locust didn't have 'alien' figured out in their vocabulary yet.

* * *

 **Kindly Review and Criticize**


End file.
